


The Doghouse

by mistyzeo



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bartenders, Clubbing, M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-22
Updated: 2011-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:03:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/pseuds/mistyzeo





	The Doghouse

Three years as a bartender at the Doghouse had made Jared pretty immune to all kinds of bullshit, from poor tippers to drunken flirting, from finding vomit in the bathroom to having drinks spilled on him, and he was an expert at not letting any of it get to him. He liked his job, and he liked the people he worked with, and okay so he wasn’t going anywhere in life yet, but at least things were stationary. He liked working nights, even if Saturdays were always the craziest, and Jared had even started looking forward to that night, if only to see the green-eyed guy again.

His name was Jensen, Jared had learned from running his tab, and he was probably the most attractive, least attainable man Jared had ever seen. He showed up just after midnight on Saturday, sometimes with a friend or two, and sometimes without. He was an equal opportunity flirt, dancing with girls and guys alike, and hitting on every one of the bartenders in turn. He had a gorgeous grin and he tipped well, and he always left alone. He always greeted Jared with a wink and a smile, handed over his credit card and said, “Open one up for me, huh gorgeous?”

 _Gorgeous._ Jared didn’t care if Jensen was the biggest player he’d ever seen, no one else had ever called him that. It made him blush, and he was glad the lights in the club were low so it didn’t show. He’d start his Saturday shift at ten and spend every minute after midnight trying to catch a glimpse of Jensen coming in. He always missed him, got distracted at just the wrong moment, and then Jensen was there, elbows on the bar, smiling at Jared.

Jared watched him all night, serving drinks and cleaning up glasses between bouts of staring. Jensen dressed modestly, tight black t-shirt and dark jeans, two silver pendants around his neck and a black cord bracelet next to a silver watch, and a ring on his right hand. The jewelry had caught Jared’s eye the first time the club’s flashing colored lights had glinted off of it, and Jared knew it drew other people to Jensen too.

“You’ve got it bad,” Sandy said, the seventh Saturday in a row that Jensen had showed up and Jared had neglected his work. Jensen was grinding up on a petite blonde, his head dipped low against hers, his hands on her hips, putting a look of bliss on her face. Jared was wiping down the bar with the kind of attention to detail that particular stretch of counter had never seen before.

“What—“ Jared said, “I do not.”

“Okay,” Sandy said, rolling her eyes.

She was right. Jared went home at the end of the shift, exhausted and mostly deaf, and Jensen featured prominently in his three a.m. jerk off fantasies more often than not. He lay in bed and imagined getting to leave the bar, slip out into the crowd, and find Jensen. He’d come up from behind and touch Jensen’s hip. Jensen would turn in surprise, and then he’d see Jared and smile that smile of his. Jensen would let go of whoever else had had in his arms and let Jared fit their bodies together, his back to Jared’s front. He’d call Jared _gorgeous._

Jared took himself in hand and imagined Jensen gripping his hip, grinding against him with practiced precision, just enough pressure to drive him wild. He imagined kissing Jensen’s neck, his jaw, and Jensen turning his head to meet his mouth, sliding his tongue against Jared’s and taking control of the kiss. He would taste like liquor and smell like aftershave, and he’d kiss like Jared was a feast. Jared would hold him with his hands on Jensen’s thighs, hips rolling together to the heavy club beat, and Jensen would sigh and pull away, duck his head and arch his back. Jared would put one hand on his shoulder and bend him over, grinding against his ass, and Jensen would grab handfuls of Jared’s shirt and hold on.

He’d get to take him home— he’d be the one Jensen left with at the end of the night. He’d get Jensen in his bed, strip him down and put his mouth everywhere. He’d get on his knees and suck Jensen until he was begging Jared to fuck him, and then he’d turn him over and lick him until he came. Then, while Jensen was still recovering, drenched in sweat from dancing and fucking, he’d line up and slide home, opening Jensen up around his dick. Jensen would be tight, tighter than Jared’s fist, and hotter, and he’d be all wet from Jared’s tongue. He’d spread his knees and push back into Jared’s thrusts, and he’d come again on Jared’s dick while Jared tried desperately to hold himself back. Jared would pull out and jerk himself off, shooting his spunk all over Jensen’s smooth, shining-damp back.

Jared lay panting, stomach and hand covered in his own come, catching his breath and losing the threads of the fantasy. He was going to have to get this under control if he was going to survive another Saturday night watching Jensen dance and flirt and go home alone.


End file.
